Wings of Fire
by Skywolf24
Summary: She's a soldier who believed that her heart belonged only to her missions; until something unexpected and alarming happens with a certain Dark Knight. A Shayera Hol & Bruce Wayne one shot.


**Wings of Fire**

**All characters belong to DC Comics and Warner Bros**

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**Summary: **She's a soldier who believed that her heart belonged only to her missions; until something unexpected happens with a certain Dark Knight. A Shayera Hol & Christopher Nolan's Bruce Wayne one shot.**  
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**{Wings of Fire}**

The gentle hums of the Watchtower always became a comfort to her restless spirit**; **Shayera Hol felt the tension rippling in her veins -probing her fingers over a fresh layer of gauze snaked around her trim and firm waist. Every muscle of her lithe and strong body throbbed with searing heat-she tasted the metallic bitterness of blood trickle down the rawness of her throat. Her head pounding with trepidation as she cradled her toned arms over her armored chest plate, gritting her teeth and unleashing a faint snarl under her heated breath.

She was a fierce solider who adapted to pain on the smoky battlefield and embraced her scars as victories. Weakness never became branded on her tarnished skin; she never allowed the other members of the Justice League to catch her grimacing while sewing up another battle wound. She had molten steel running in her veins, coldness in her heart and a feral glare permanently entrapped in her concealed emerald-gray eyes behind the black hawk mask.

Now, she was a captive in the Watchtower's sick bay, thanks to the concerns of Jon Jones and Wally West, who brought her a chocolate and strawberry milkshake after the bullet fired by Deadshot was removed from her left side. She could still smell the vague scent of gunpowder embedded into her skin-it enticed and condemned her at the same time, but she didn't allow the inflamed, marred tissue in her stomach to consume all thought in those still moments of sitting in the dim light and staring at the breathtaking view of earth from the protective glass window next to her bedside.

Steadying her intense, alert green eyes down to the mace, Shayera stretched out a shaky hand and gripped the handle, lifting her weapon to the gleams of light which dazzled in the depth of her eyes-she suddenly became hardened by the self conviction burning inside her chest-she had a mission to complete and commands to follow. The words of her Commander laced on her fractured heart each moment she glanced at the sphere of human existence outside her sanctuary.

"My home is my mission." She whispered, her voice firm and strained. The back of her throat ached as she swallowed down a constricting lump of guilt before she tighten her grip around the leather strap of her weapon-her shield against enemies. "My mission is my existence. Nothing else."

Shayera bit down on her rose shaded lip; feeling the knots of inflicting pain-it penetrated deep into her bones, making her eyes leak out smoldering tears. She dropped her mace to the floor, her muscles coiled as she felt the numbness tingle through her. She parted her lips and heaved out a deep exhaled, clenching her exposed jaw and rocking her body to fight against the pain.

Suddenly, the automatic door unlocked, she snapped her head up and listened to the harrowing silence lulling her senses. Her defenses spiked, she quickly slid off the mattress and rose to her feet to face the darkness.

She positioned her battered frame into a fighting stance-her fists raised and leveled at her chest and green orbs shooting the intruder a murderous glare. "What do you want?" she commanded, her menacing voice laced with stern authority-but there was only silence. "I asked you a question..." Her words drifted as she glanced at a tall, dark shape advancing closer to the medical bed.

"Relax, Shayera Hol," A dark and raspy voice answered without any hesitation; she withdrew a step back and peered intently at the pointed eared figure standing stoically in the traces of darkness. Shayera lowered her fists to her sides and curved her lips into a defiant smirk as her eyes raked over the slender, densely muscled frame of the Dark Knight.

He looked darkly at her, feral hazel-green eyes piercing from the slits of the, menacing and jagged cowl. His thin-straight lips fastened into a firm line and long cape draped over his plated shoulder. He never looked so dangerous and unbearably attractive in his life-perfect configuration of a fierce warrior and a charismatic prince hidden behind a guise of an elemental creature of the darkness.

"I'm here to make sure that everything is fine with your injuries." He spoke in a nonchalant tone, narrowing his head down to the floor. "Jon's on a rescue mission with Diana and Superman. So he asked me to watch for you, Shayera." He revealed with a simple growl.

Shayera shook her head, "I don't need a nurse, Batman. I can my injuries on my own." she shot back with defiance gleaming in her eyes. "I've survived worse on battlefields back on Thanagar. Plus, I heal quickly."

"Shayera," Batman growled back, advancing towards her, closing the distance between them. "Stop being a stubborn soldier and face the truth. You're wounded and you need time to heal before another mission."

"Since when does the brooding Dark Knight care about his fellow teammates?" she questioned, glaring at him skeptically. "I thought you were made out of ice?"

"You're not the only here that hides their pain," he retorted back, drawing out a sharp exhale. He looked directly at her-his severe hazel eyes burned into her skull, making an icy shiver dance along the ridges of her spine. "I carry it with me every day...It's weakness that I will never share and a reminder that I am a human under this mask." he gritted his teeth, seething out his inward anger. "You're a soldier for your own race and I'm a soldier for the people of Gotham. We bleed because we can take the bullets and make the sacrifices when no one else can."

Shayera mashed her teeth into her lip for a moment, studying his true emotions. "Why do not consider yourself a member of this team, Batman?" she questioned, meeting his eyes in the darkness. "You're a hero just like the rest of us..."

"I'm not a hero, Shayera" Batman said, his voice somber and raspy. He moved closer to the window, lowering his head- avoiding the intense, hardened green eyes of his powerful teammate. His eyes looked down at his bat suit armor- filled with dents and scuff with blood. He looked up at the reflection of his sleek, frightening mask, and heaved out a despondent breath, tasting the blood from a cut on his cheek, run and seep into his smooth lips.

He turned to face face with a tender glint in his dark eyes."I'm just a warrior of shadow that has scars to bare and bullets to stop."

Shayera nodded, slowly walking to his side while her one arm enclosed itself over her waist. She felt the edges of her full lips twist into a coy smirk as she stared at the streak of blood straining over his lips. "And I'm not the only one who is wounded?"

Batman stiffened his posture, pursing his lips into a sour frown. "It's nothing." he countered lowly. "It's just a small cut I received from a common street thug. You're the one that needs to heal." He placed his gloved hand tentatively on her bare shoulder, his fingers curled over the hard muscle.

"You still need the wound cleaned," Shayera firmly said, she backed away and moved to the bedside table, lifting up a washcloth. She turned around and pointed a finger at the mattress. "Sit," she ordered with a commanding officer, watching him roll his eyes. "That's an order, Batman. Unless you want me to drag you to this bed because I will gladly do it."

Batman heaved out a frustrated breath, and paced with quick sides to the edge of the bed and sat down. "This isn't necessary. Alfred always mends my injuries in the cave." he growled, refusing to allow her to touch his mask-it was too late, she placed her hands on the sides of the cowl and lifted it slowly up, staring at the shape of his lips and sharpness of his chiseled and sweaty features. She tossed the mask to the floor, his dark chestnut hair matted and drenched with exhaustion. She lightly snorted at the black makeup covering his eyelids. "What?" he asked, irritation ragged up his throat.

"You wear war paint under the mask?" she arched one eyebrow.

"Black camouflage makeup," he ejected back, an edge in his voice. "It's effective and necessary for the streets of Gotham."

"Interesting," she whispered, dabbing the cloth over the gash on his cheek. "I'm guessing you fought this thug as Bruce Wayne or other disguise that you sometimes use?"

"I was in Crime Alley visiting an old friend," he replied glumly, wincing slightly. "There was a small car robbery and I acted fast before anyone got hurt."

She nodded, looking at the blood stain on the cloth. "It's a good thing the wound isn't too deep... Otherwise, you would be bleeding out all your good looks."

"Well, we can't have at," He shot her with a cocky grin playing over his lips. His hazel eyes became steely and firm as he slowly reached a hand up and touched her mask. "I've never seen your face unmasked before..." He whispered hotly, his breath danced over her jaw; sensing that she was about to pull away from him it made another move-instead she became frozen against the gentle caress of his gloved fingers. "I think I'll leave that choice to you."

Shayera dropped the cloth to her floor, trying to look away, but his hazel orbs became shadowed with danger-she felt her disciplined and traitorous heart ached to feel his lips against her flesh. He was lethal, silent and leader. He was a taste of humanity that she craved and desired. With an impulse gush of blood flowing in her veins, she pulled her mask off-allowing scarlet curls to cascade over her shoulders and looked at him with her bright green eyes which shone like jewels in the darkness between them.

Bruce became breathless, his features never flinched, he stared wide eyed at the gorgeous creature standing in front of him. Her silver feathered wings curved in the slant of light and plump lips enticed him to move closer as he fell into a trance and gripped one of her wings. Slowly he rose off the mattress, tilting his head forward as heat radiated off his Kevlar suit. She stopped him, placing her hand on his hard chest.

"I'm not a human, Bruce." she whispered, narrowing her head down. She sealed her eyes shut and trembled as his cape brushed over her sleek legs. "We're too different..." He framed her face with his gloved hands, staring at her with tenderness and trust.

"You're a woman, Shayera.." He stroked his fingers through her silky locks. "But when I really look at you, I see something that I've been searching for a long time."

"What?" she asked, swallowing down a harsh breath.

"An angel," he replied, with a gentle smile. He leaned forward and kissed her. It was brief and light. He pulled back, tracing his thumb over her bottom lip. "You're not so different from what you think you are in the eyes of people you risk your life to save. You're a gift to humanity... Don't you forget that, Shayera Hol."

He stepped away from her, lifting up his cowl-but then something unexpected happened, he was thrown off his feet and stunned. She grasped his cape, pulled him closer and captured his lips in a fierce kiss. There was nothing gentle about it, she was commanding and urgent. He felt his soft lips move under her mouth-tasting the sweetness wash down his throat.

There became a powerful need and assurance forming inside their bodies, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and released all the tension and pain into him. His jugular pounded against her fingers and chest pressed against the firmness of her ample breasts. She didn't know how to react with emotions... How to express love the way a human would but she allowed her soaring heart to guide her until she finally broke away from him.

"No," she panted, feeling her bones seared with heat. "I didn't mean..." He advanced closer to her, snaking his scallop-blade forearm around her tensed curves. "I wasn't thinking..."

He became about a fraction of an inch away from her. His fierce hazel-green eyes glared down as he slowly clasped his hand over her neck and kissed her one more time before the lights flickered on and the annoying voice of Wally West broke the intimate moment between them.

"Did I miss anything, guys?"

Bruce turned around and shot the young copper haired speedster who was leaning casually against the door with a cold, threatening bat glare.


End file.
